Genesis - Gotham
by AlwaysWearingSweaters
Summary: Before the Joker, there was Jerome. Before Batman, there was a city of disorder. How did the Joker rise to his full glory? What other villains established Gotham's underground world of crime? How was Gotham's stage set for its destiny of the Batman? Lots of OC's, a little bit of murder, some love, and plenty of crazy.
1. Anticipation

"Eeeevening, Frank," a voice sang as its matching silhouette appeared in the doorway. The tall figure sauntered in, feeble fluorescent lights gradually illuminating an uncomfortably wide grin. Frank nodded in reply.

"You're early, boss man."

"Eh, couldn't help myself," the figure shrugged with a flourish of his hand, "I get bored without drama." The corner of his mouth unbalanced with the other in a smirk. _Boss man_ sounded nice.

"Then this should be good, Jerome."

The two made their way down the stairwell, the smell of stagnant water in dark corners lingering in their nostrils. It didn't bother either of them - they had come to expect it. The buzzing of flies followed them, and Frank was less conscious of the sound of rats than he was the sensation of Jerome's gaze burning the nape of his neck.

"Who'd you guys nab this time? Poor, innocent do-gooder?" Jerome crooned, his arched eyebrows feigning sympathy. "Maybe a mid-life-crisis beer-belly chump trying to 'save the world?'"

"None of that tonight," Frank replied, his chest puffing out slightly.

"Well! That's a first! I'm glad, Frank," Jerome nodded, patting Frank on the back a bit too forcefully. "I've been feeling a tiny bit…let down by the _general populous_ lately. People are damn cowards." His gaze turned to his employee, punctuated with a short chuckle; for a second Frank swore he saw something dangerous pass over his eyes. "Or maybe you guys just need to step up your game. Huh?"

He tore his eyes away from Jerome's.

"That's not been a problem tonight. Boys got in a piece of work."

Jerome playfully jumped over the last few stairs; he snickered. "Well, our definitions of 'piece of work' may differ _juuust_ a little."  
Frank cleared his throat and hid his annoyance somewhere under his tongue.

"Not this time. This dude is hysterical or something." He could almost see Jerome's ears pricking in interest.

"Oh really?"

"They bit a hunk out of Ferguson's arm if that's the kind of answer you're looking for. Wanna meet the guy?"

Jerome looked at Frank as if he were a waiter bringing out a steak dinner.

"If I may."

The two strode into the next room, opening one more door and inching their way through. It was dim, the green-tinted lights reflecting against a glasslike, grimy wall. Jerome pulled up a stool, left behind from what used to be a nightclub dressing room. It wasn't the perfect hideout, but it had its advantages. Some of the men enjoyed the presence of the still-gleaming metal stripper poles. Jerome preferred the two-way mirror.

"Alrighty!" he piped, grabbing the bottle of beer that was already waiting for him and kicking his feet up onto the edge of the mirror. "Lets get this show on the road!"


	2. Acting

With a sharp snap of Frank's fingers, footsteps began to thud through a room somewhere off the main corridor. The noise of rubber shoes pierced the air with desperate scritches, making contact with the dull, damp concrete below. Soon enough, the metal door swung open.

Several men appeared in the white-tiled bathroom. They dragged along an indistinguishable person, who was viciously writhing their thin figure, kicking horrendously distressed boots in every direction. A stream of guttural snarls ripped from their hidden mouth.

"What did I tell you," Frank muttered, indifferent to the scenario taking place through the streaked glass. Jerome grinned, the dim lights reflecting off of his exposed teeth.

They both watched as the person was, with effort, restrained in a chair, legs tied harshly to the posts. Their wrists were soon in handcuffs, attached to a table in front - something that was looked like blood or dirt leaked onto the shiny metal. The captive strained their legs in vain, their hooded head vigorously thrashing about. The men's job was done.

"FUCK" a hoarse voice yelled in anger, the owner attempting to slam pale, dirty fists on the table. The men left, the door giving a firm metal clack as it closed. The victim was alone.

The figure's head flew from side to side, drinking in the less-than-savory surroundings. A heaving chest, yanking legs, and flickering of dim light was the only movement in the small, grimy bathroom.

"Frank, I gotta say...you were right," Jerome laughed. His smile morphed into a giddy snarl as he tamed his ragged breathing. "This is gonna be fun."

His fiery eyes went back to observing the captive eagerly. Frank could almost see Jerome thinking, this time calculating when he should enter the room, what he would do to the black, distorted figure of a human being. Frank lifted his head high, watching his young boss lick his lips in anticipation. Then the figure slowly lifted its head.

A disturbingly heavy feeling overcame Frank as he felt his hair stand on end. This was a two-way mirror. There was no way the captive could see Frank through the glass. But nevertheless, a hooded, shadowed face seemed to be staring directly at him. The captive's chest began to relax, as did their previously straining feet. Their figure slowly sank back into the chair, head calmly tilting to the side. Tattered shoulders rose and fell with what appeared to be a yawn. It was as if they were in a living room, waiting on a pizza delivery. The thing tilted its head slowly in the opposite direction; a dull pop echoed across molded tile. Fists unraveled into dirty, thin fingers, which began slowly scratching at the wood of the table in boredom.

Both men grew silent, their eyes glued to the shadowed form.

"The hell is that," Frank slowly muttered under his breath. Jerome's narrowed eyes hovered over a grim grin. He cleared his throat and rose to his feet.

"Acting."


	3. A proposal

Jerome sighed - there was no point in wasting time. He flung the door to the room open, his shoes clanking on the floor.

"Well hello, hello hello," he sang. His captive lifted their head, shifting their weight in their seat. He grinned a bit, sensing discomfort. He briskly walked over and hopped up on to the table directly before them, crossing one leg over the other and leaning forward like a giddy schoolboy, his grin only widening.

"Lovely night we're having, isn't it?" He paused for a moment, waiting for a response, and resolved to pat the figure on the arm as if greeting an old friend. "Alright, chatty Cathy…" His grip tightened on the tattered, thin arm, his smile turning into a frightening frown. Jerome lunged forward, his eyes wild and gleaming. With one swift motion, he tore the hood from the figures head and gave a startled yelp.

Gray eyes peered from what appeared to be black holes - or black makeup haphazardly smudged over the eye sockets. The same black substance had been taken and smeared across the mouth, and a tangle of what appeared to be blonde, almost silver colored hair came nearly to the shoulders. The ghoulish face raised an eyebrow in amusement.

As if to recover and maintain morale, Jerome gave a sharp laugh.

"Well, I can honestly say I wasn't expecting that," he growled. He continued to hold his handgun shakily in the direction of the figure's face. "Nice trick." The captive's mouth twitched, almost smiling, and spoke.

"You know, for a guy they're calling The Joker, I figured you knew all about tricks." The voice was almost sleepy, drawing out and then releasing like a cigarette. It hid a fiery tongue. And it was distinctly female.

"Well!" Jerome exclaimed, punctuated by a hand to the forehead, "Surprise number two! You're a girl!" He scoffed, taking the same hand to push back his hair, "Where are my manners?"

Jerome walked behind the girl, surveying her further. He clicked his tongue suggestively, his eyes traveling from her tattered shoulders to her heavy boots. "Who the hell are you?" he muttered to himself, reaching out to touch the fabric of her ripped shoulders before promptly ripping an especially mangled piece off. The girl didn't budge.

Jerome looked disappointed in her lack of reaction and brought his hand down on the metal table with a sharp slap. She twitched.

"Y'know, I-I would say 'hello beautiful,' but considering…ya know..." his voice trailed, his pale hand gesturing to her corpse painted face. His expression suddenly shifted completely, his mouth breaking into a grin. "By the way, are people really calling me that? I mean, I figured that was just a rumor but I love it."

"Yeah" the figure chuckled indignantly, "it's adorable."

"Not the word i was thinkin of…" Jerome sighed, his eyes looking towards the ceiling comically until they menacingly met the grey beams staring back at him. "Well, I was just going to shoot you, but now, considering these…interesting circumstances, I'm not sure if I should kill you, make you talk, or say Beetlejuice three times," Jerome howled, his hand slapping the table in front of an unamused grim ghoul. She stared back at him, and he could almost feel her desire to roll her eyes. The laughter rapidly ceased.

"Ya know...I'm not sure if I like you," he declared matter-of-factly, "you need to loosen up, buttercup." He leaned uncomfortably close, his teeth exposed in a grim smile, his pale hand gently slapping her cheek. The girl wrinkled her nose.

"I'll try, petunia. My name's Lu by the way."

He was much like she had expected. Jerome was dangerous, unstable, as if one touch would cause him to explode. His eyes constantly changed, somehow appearing both dead and alive, angry and giddy, horrifying and fascinating. They always gleamed with something. Lu knew that she couldn't possibly catch up to him. He was too dangerous. But she also saw a young man - probably in his twenties now - pale from time spent in the dark, hair tousled, desperate, but horrifying nevertheless. He was somehow different than he was on the news, staring at her with a twitching, harrowing, and somehow charming, smile. She exhaled. Her cigarette-smoke voice picked up speed - the first impression was over.

"I would loosen up, but I came to talk to you."

Jerome's expression hardened. His eyebrows drew in and his eyes darkened. "Look, I can tell you wanted to get in here on purpose, but I'm not an idiot. I'm not going to let you out of those cuffs, and those ropes, just so you can try your damn hardest to kill me, and then have to waste my precious time getting rid of you." Lu gave a genuine smile.

"Well, I wouldn't want to anyway. It kinda defeats the purpose I guess."

"Which is?"

"I need help."

"Well shit," Jerome said, nodding, "that's something." He opened his mouth as if to sarcastically protest but Lu spoke again.

"I know you don't do 'jobs' or rinky dink stuff. You don't like being under people. Which is pretty obvious."

"You got me pegged, sweetheart. But why'd you want to come to me, huh? I mean...I'm a big deal. I own -"

"Listen, I don't give two shits and a fart about how powerful you are, I just want to fuck things up."

"Pardon?"

"I kill people."

Jerome smirked and his eyes narrowed. He studied Lu for a long minute, somehow looking far more serious than before. Finally, the dense air cleared. "Well," he said, looking her up and down, coming close once again, "that makes sense. Good girl. What, are you some kind of assassin? Hooked up with one of the families? Why ya killing folks, huh? Someone do ya wrong?" he crooned, lengthening out his words. Lu felt his breath on her skin.

"I's not because anyone deserves it" she mused, "I mean…nobody deserves to die but we all do anyway. I dunno why people care so much."

Jerome gave a thoughtful chuckle. She seemed genuine, but her reckless abandon wasn't convincing enough. She could be playing him for a fool, arrogantly expecting him to let her leave unscathed.

With a yell, he lunged at her, leaning over the table. His rough hand gripped onto her neck and his other forced her mouth crudely open. Lu's breathing became ragged as she felt metal clang against her teeth; the pistol was shoved into her mouth, making her gag. Her eyes widened. Jerome looked satisfied.

"Alright Lu, all high and mighty, answer me this. I could blast your brains onto that wall. Right. Now. Would ya care then?"

Lu looked at his eyes, feeling her own relax from her shocked expression. Jerome expected pleas for mercy, bargaining, tears, or screams, but there was nothing. It wasn't an emotionless nothing, or an arrogant nothing. She merely blinked at him, something melancholy passing in her eyes he couldn't identify, and then they gently closed, almost ceremonially. He felt her teeth bite down on the barrel of the gun and a movement of her head. For a moment he thought she was attempting to escape the gun, but then he realized – she was positioning the barrel at a better angle for a kill.

Jerome was far from a man of cowardice, fear, or intimidation. But for for the first time in quite a while, he almost felt disturbed. He maintained his heavy grip, but slowly removed the barrel from the willing, small mouth of his captive. She exhaled and opened her eyes, unsure of whether to look at him. His eyes gleamed but watched her intently. A look passed between them; Lu was uncertain of whether it was malice or something else, but didn't have time to decide. Suddenly Jerome's voice bellowed.

"BOYS."

Several large men entered the room, including Frank who scampered in from the observation room, his face pale and uneasy. "Yeah, boss," he muttered. Jerome never tore his firey eyes from Lu's, who looked befuddled.

"Take this one back out. Alive. We're done here."

Frank looked confused. "Boss, are you s-"

Without looking directly at him, Jerome flung his arm forward, the pistol gleaming. The men all jumped at the sound of the blast, and the dull thump of Frank's body hitting the floor. "Sure I'm sure," he spat.

The men wordlessly untied and uncuffed Lu, while several others dragged Frank's body into another doorway. A muffled screech came from Lu's mouth as she suddenly felt fabric tied over her mouth. After being assured of its removal once she was outside, she looked back at Jerome, her eyebrows drawn together in question.

"I'll think about it," he stated. Lu looked nearly angry, desiring more than a lukewarm reply. But Jerome bowed forward in some type of grim farewell gesture, turned on his heel, and sauntered out of the room. Lu heard a dark chuckle from down the hallway when a large door was suddenly opened. The city air stung her face. Her body was abruptly flung downwards, and she felt a slight crack as her upper half met the pavement. Lu's vision went red for a moment, she tasted blood in her mouth, and the door slammed behind her. She was alone. Lu, for a moment, felt a tear spring to her eye, the pain of her fall causing her to grimace. But Lu felt her grimace unconsciously widen painfully into a grin, drops of blood from her damaged face leaking on to her scuffed boots.

 _I'll think about it._


End file.
